The Key to Her Past

by Dabney, Blanche

  He shook the feeling away. She had MacCallister blood pumping through her. He must not forget that no matter how pitiful she looked, sobbing in the armchair by the fire, a small black rectangular object in her hand.

  He didn’t know what it was. Sometimes she spoke into it and it seemed as if a tiny voice spoke back. Other times she attached it to a wire and left it for a while.

  It was just one more thing about this time he didn’t understand. Not that it mattered. What mattered was the silver key. Where was it and when would she find it?

  The third day after she moved in, it happened. She had already clambered up onto the battlements, standing with the wind blowing her hair as she looked out at the village across the valley, the village that had raised him.

  It all looked different to his time, not that it mattered. He would not be here much longer. Soon he would be back in his own time and his father would be alive and together they could be a family, go find his mother.

  On the morning of the third day she stood at the top of the steps that led down into the dungeon. “If you’re down there,” she said to the staircase. “I’m coming down. Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.”

  Don’t be afraid. Wallace managed a grim smile. It was not he who should be afraid. It was her. Not that she would know it until it was too late.

  She descended the stairs with a lantern more powerful than any he’d seen before. It lit up the stairs and then the door that led toward the dungeon. She stopped, shining the lantern around her. He stopped too, the light passing through him. He waited.

  “I’m hoping you’re friendly,” she said. “Lord knows, I could do with a friend.” She began walking again, stopping in front of the locked door he knew so well. “I wonder,” she said out loud, reaching into her pocket and drawing out a keychain. He hadn’t seen it before. Where had she kept that hidden?

  There was only one key on the chain, a small silver one, the top marked with an M. He held his breath, watching as she slid the key into the lock. She turned it and there was a dull thud from deep inside the door followed by a scraping sound. She was opening the door.

  She gasped when she pointed the lantern into the dungeon. On the floor were two skeletons of indeterminate age. He expected her to fall back, to run screaming from the sight. Instead, she stepped inside, kneeling beside the skeleton of his father, crossing herself as she did so. “May you rest in peace,” she said. “I wonder who you were.”

  She stood once more and turned around, stopping dead. “Who are you?” she asked.

  Wallace looked behind him. There was no one there.

  She continued to stare at him. “I asked you a question. Who are you and what are you doing sneaking up on people like that?”

  He blinked. Surely not. He lifted one hand and waved it slowly in front of her face.

  “Don’t wave at me. Answer me before I chuck this flashlight at you.”

  “You can see me?” he asked, hardly daring to believe what was happening.

  “Of course I can see you. You’re standing right there. Who are you?”

  “I am Wallace MacGregor.”

  “Very funny. Who are you really?”

  “I am Wallace MacGregor.”

  “You’re Wallace MacGregor? The son of Jock and Daisy MacGregor?”

  “Aye.”

  She took a step toward him. “The MacGregor who died more than seven hundred years ago. That’s you, is it?”

  “I can prove it.”

  “Go on then, prove it.”

  “Unlock this door at midnight tonight.”

  “That’s convenient. Can’t prove it now but I just have to come back here alone into a dungeon at midnight. Go on, get out of here before I call the police. You’re trespassing.”

  He stood up tall, his fists clenching. “I’m trespassing? You are in the castle I have haunted for centuries and you suddenly claim it as your own. You should be careful what you wish for. The MacCallister who owns this castle will pay a pretty price for it soon enough.”

  “I don’t own it, I’m just renting for a while. And you’re stalling. I told you to get out of here.”

  He shook his head. None of this was going the way he’d planned. “What are you here for?” he asked, trying a smile. “Maybe I can help.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m writing a book.”

  “I know that, I saw you.”

  “You mean you’ve been spying on me?”

  “What’s your book about?”

  She scratched her head, looking at him closely. “You’re an odd one, do you know that? Not that it matters but it’s about the MacGregors and the MacCallisters. I’ve been looking into their history.” She sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to go back in time. Why, are you going to tell me you know all about them? Got a time machine on standby have you?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I’d like to make you an offer.”

  “Go on, get out of here. There are two skeletons here I need to report to the police. Who knows how long they’ve been here.”

  “Seven hundred years,” he said, walking past her and kneeling by his father’s side. He brushed her shoulder as he went by, the sensation strange after so long alone. “This is Jock MacGregor and by his side are my own mortal remains.” He bowed his head in respect.

  “Come on,” she scoffed. “What are you supposed to be, a ghost?”

  “Aye,” he said, standing once more.

  “A ghost?” She prodded his chest. “You seem pretty real to me.”

  “I make you this offer,” he said, ignoring her comment, reaching out for the key. “Unlock that door at midnight with that key of yours and I will show you the world of my time.”

  “You…you really are barmy, aren’t you? What happens if I don’t? Will you haunt me forever rattling your chains and telling me to repent my sins like Scrooge?” She pulled the key away from him.

  He lunged for it, moving faster than her. But as soon as his fingers brushed against the key, he vanished as if he’d never been there at all leaving Natalie alone in the dungeon with only the skeletons for company.

  6

  Natalie wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or going mad. They seemed the two most reasonable explanations. She was standing in the dungeon of MacCallister Castle with two skeletons for company.

  Not only that, but a guy straight out of a Mills and Boon romance had just appeared out of nowhere and then vanished just as quickly. Had it been so long since she’d had anyone in her bed that she was dreaming brawny highlanders up out of nowhere?

  She wedged the flashlight in a hole in the crumbling stone wall, illuminating the space well enough to show her what she needed to know.

  Kneeling by the skeletons she examined them both closely. She’d never been so close to dead bodies before, though they were hard to see as corpses when there was so little to them.

  She shook her head. It wasn’t her place to examine them and she had probably better not move the bones. Leave that to the police. Or the archaeologists, depending how long they’d been there.

  Was it luck or fate that had revealed the silver key to her? Had it brought a ghost out of hiding? Or set her down the path to hallucinating madness?

  How long had the silver key been missing anyway? That door had been locked for a long time, the smell of age that hit her when she opened it told her she was the first person to enter in decades, maybe centuries. And all the time the silver key to unlock it was hidden behind the panel in her bedroom wall.

  She hadn’t even had to search to find it. It had simply fallen out, landing on the floor with a soft thump while she’d been trying to focus on writing. At once, she knew it was the key for the dungeon though she couldn’t have said why.

  She was proved right when she tried it. It was the key that unlocked the dungeon. It was also the key to meeting two skeletons and a madman. A handsome madman, sure, but a madman nonetheless.

  She stood up and headed up the stairs, calling out as she went
. If the man had been there, he was long gone. No doubt he’d sneaked up the stairs without her realizing, not wanting to be around when the police arrived. Good riddance.

  She managed a half smile when she reached the top of the staircase. To think, he genuinely expected her to believe he was Wallace MacGregor.

  Sure, he was wearing the right sort of thing but that didn’t mean anything. He could have picked up that black hose and open tunic at any costume store in the country.

  She’d left her cellphone in her room. She retrieved it and tried to ring the police. No signal, the thickness of the stone walls making it hard to receive any phone calls. There was only one place she could be sure of that had a signal. The battlements.

  Heading up there, she wondered again where that man had come from. She also wondered why she wasn’t more afraid of him. Was it because she was sure he wasn’t a ghost?

  Or because he was one which meant he couldn’t hurt her?

  A man trespassing in her home could hurt her, of course. And yet still she didn’t feel afraid.

  It was just one more mystery to add to the others.

  Up on the battlements, she tried to call again. This time she was able to get through.

  “Emergency, which service do you require?”

  “Police, please.”

  “One moment.”

  A pause and then a different voice. “Police, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

  “Hi, bit of a weird one. I’ve found two dead bodies in the dungeon of a castle.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Natalie MacCallister.”

  “What’s your address, Natalie?”

  She gave it, getting the feeling that the person on the other end of the line was suspicious. “This isn’t a prank call, you know,” she added, wincing as she realized that made it sound like it definitely was one.

  “Are the victims breathing? Do they have a pulse?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Are you certain? Have you checked?”

  “No but-”

  “Paramedics are on their way along with the police.”

  “Listen, there’s no need for paramedics. I can assure you they’re definitely dead.”

  “Are you a doctor? Have you attempted CPR?”

  Her patience ran out. “They’re skeletons. They’re not going to be coming back to life no matter how many chest compressions I do.”

  “Skeletons?” The skeptical note in the voice went up a notch. “In a dungeon?”

  “Look, seriously, I’m not making this up.”

  “Of course not. Are you with the victims now?”

  “No, I’m-”

  “Please stay with them until the officers arrive. They’ll be there shortly.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  She ended the call, standing for a moment looking out at the village in the distance. Life was so simple when she was there. Boyfriend, job, life. Now what had happened to her? Nancy Drew in the Highlands with a mystery to solve. Maybe the agent had been right, maybe this place wasn’t for her.

  The fact that it might be haunted didn’t bother her. The fact that she might have met a ghost didn’t bother her either. What bothered her was the not knowing if he’d been telling the truth.

  For a ghost he seemed very real after all. When she’d prodded his chest, she wasn’t just surprised by how real he felt but how solid his muscles were. He was definitely strong enough to sweep her into his arms and go full Mills and Boon. Not that she cared of course. Not at all.

  She fanned her face, glad of the breeze as she suddenly felt far too hot. Descending the stairs, she returned to the dungeon. The flashlight was still there, the light dying as she stepped inside. “Well done,” she said out loud. “Forgot to charge it, forgot to turn it off. Top work, Natalie.”

  She reached for it as it failed completely. In the darkness, she tripped over something on the floor and then lost her balance. She had a horrible feeling she was about to land on one of the skeletons.

  She managed to miss them both. Instead, she slammed her head into the base of the wall, the darkness of the cell nothing compared to the darkness of unconsciousness that swallowed her up a second later. She didn’t even manage to say, “Ow.”

  She came to eventually, not sure where she was. For a moment all she could think was about how much her head hurt. She sat up, rubbing it. It felt sticky. Had she cut herself? Then she remembered.

  She was in the dungeon. Was that banging sound in her head? Nope, someone was shouting. She couldn’t make it out yet. She was too dazed. She got to her feet slowly, groping her way along the wall toward the door.

  “I’m here,” she said. “In here.” It was closed. Worse than that, it was locked. How had that happened? “Wallace,” she shouted. “You better let me out.”

  There was no answer. She was alone in the pitch black with only two skeletons for company.

  “Let me out,” she shouted as someone thumped on the door from the other side. “Who’s there?”

  “Miss MacCallister, it’s the police. Can you hear us? Can you open the door?”

  “It’s locked.”

  “We know. We’ve been trying to get in for hours. Do you have a key?”

  Of course, the key. She rolled her eyes as she realized she hadn’t even thought of that. Rummaging in her pockets, she found it, sighing with relief as she realized her troubles were almost over.

  Or so she thought.

  She felt for the keyhole, sliding the key home a second later. “Don’t worry,” the voice on the other side of the door called to her. “We’ll soon have you-”

  She turned the key and pulled the door open. There was no one on the other side. The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end. The air felt electric. Something had happened but she had no idea what. “Hello,” she called out, knowing with absolute certainty that she would get no answer. She stepped through, glancing up the steps. “Mr. Police Officer?”

  Nothing.

  Turning she looked into the cell once again. All she could see was darkness but something was moving in there. She scrambled for her cellphone, pulling it out and switching on the flashlight. She almost dropped it when she saw what was laid there in the cell.

  One of the skeletons had gone. In its place was a figure dressed in rags, limbs bound in chains. He was definitely dead, face down on the ground.

  She walked in slowly, using the cellphone as a shield to protect her. Kneeling beside him, she touched a finger to his neck. No pulse. Then all of a sudden, there was.

  The body shifted. He sat up.

  She dropped the phone in shock. The light went out. She picked it back up. The screen wasn’t just cracked. It was dead. “Fantastic,” she said out loud, pressing buttons to no avail.

  “Who’s there?” the figure beside her said in a voice she recognized. “Is that you, Natalie?”

  “Wallace?” she replied, hardly able to believe it. This had to be a dream. She was still unconscious. Either that or concussion was taking her on one heck of a ride. “It can’t be.”

  “It worked.” He sounded shocked. “It actually worked. I told you it would.”

  “You’re not telling me I’ve gone back in time to the Middle Ages?”

  “Aye, lass. You’re here, in my cell.” He rattled his chains, muttering to himself as he did so. “Yet I am still bound. I should have known he would cheat me.”

  “What are you talking about.”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Never mind.”

  “Listen, about your deal. Does it still stand?”

  “What?”

  “If I undo your chains, will you show me around here?”

  “So you believe that you have come back to my time?”

  “No, but it’ll be easy to prove you wrong when we both go upstairs in time to see you arrested.”

  “You’re a strange one. Here you are in a dungeon with me and you think you are still in charge of things.”

  She
thought he sounded amused rather than angry. “You’re in charge are you? The man in chains is in charge of me?”

  “I am.”

  “Then let’s have a race. First to the door wins.”

  She wasn’t sure how he reacted but the rattle of his chains suggested it wasn’t good.

  “All right,” he snapped. “If you can unlock these chains, I will show you around this place. Good luck getting them undone. They are cursed.”

  She felt for the manacles. In the darkness her hand slid down over his chest. “Sorry,” she muttered. She found the chain a second later, sliding the silver key into the lock. The manacle fell away at once and in the same moment the dungeon door slammed shut.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, looking up in the darkness. “Something weird is happening here.”

  “It’s that key,” Wallace said. “It has more power than I knew. Quick, undo my other chains.”

  “But who shut the door?”

  “My chains, now!”

  She obeyed automatically, groping her way to each of the manacles in turn, doing her best to ignore the strange bubbly feeling inside her whenever she accidentally touched him.

  “Are you really Wallace MacGregor?” she asked in a quiet voice as the last manacle fell away.

  “I am he. Heir to the MacGregor lands, sworn enemy of the MacCallisters.”

  “Does that include me? I’m a MacCallister.”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. When he did so, he was talking more to himself than to her. “You remain unbound?” he asked, sounding shocked. “The curse does not touch you. Are you not the last of the MacCallisters? The end of that line? You have no descendants, do you?”

  She looked sad for a brief moment before answering. “There is only me.”

  “Then it must be the key. We must get it to him. Father, I will see you soon.” He grabbed hold of her arm. “Come on, time to go.”

  “Tell me this isn’t real,” she said. “Tell me the police are waiting out there and you’re not Wallace MacGregor. You can’t be Wallace MacGregor. We’ll go up there and it’ll all be normal and then you’ll have to explain to them your penchant for dungeons and chains. Get it right and they’ll probably make you a Member of Parliament. They’re into that kind of thing.”